You're An Idiot
by GemThest
Summary: Hamish comes home from school with questions about John and Sherlock's relationship. Based on a Tumblr gif set. Parentlock! With some mild fluff.


"Hamish is going to be home from school soon." John said, carrying two cups of tea out of the kitchen.

"Excellent observation, John." Sherlock's tone was sarcastic, but his eyes were soft as he looked up at John. He accepted the tea with a small smile and wrapped both his hands around the cup. John sat next to him on the couch and nudged Sherlock with his shoulder.

"Do you have anything planned for tonight? We've not got a case; I was thinking we could all do something together."

Sherlock glanced at John sideways. "Don't we do that every night? It's not like we abandon him to be alone, even when we are on a case."

"No, I know." John blew air out of the side of his mouth. "I don't know. I feel like we sit in silence a lot. It's normal for you and me, I think we often understand each other better when we don't use words – " Sherlock smirked at this, but John ignored the suggestive twitch of his eyebrow. Hamish was due to be home too soon to take full advantage of that look. " – but Hamish likes to talk more. I don't want to repress any verbosity he may naturally have."

"What brought this on, John?" Sherlock set his cup down and turned to face John fully. "You normally don't worry quite so much. What's really bothering you?"

John didn't seem to want to look Sherlock in the eye. "Nothing. I just… No, it's nothing."

"John, I don't want to insult you." It was John's turn to smirk; rarely did Sherlock worry about insulting anyone. "However, you are sounding like a jilted teenage girl. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Sherlock, of course not." John met Sherlock's eyes. "You're fine. Brilliant, really. It's not you I'm worried about. I guess… I guess I just can't judge at how good of a father I'm being. We're not normal – "

"Normal is boring." Sherlock interrupted.

John smiled despite himself. "Yes, and boring isn't good. But because we're not normal, I can't measure how we're doing as parents. How I'm doing. Like I said, you're brilliant."

"John." Sherlock reached out and took John's hands, lacing their fingers together. "John, look at me."

John looked up.

"Hamish is a wonderful boy. He gets good grades, has a couple of friends, understands and appreciates our occupations." Sherlock raised his eyebrows, his intense gaze cutting right through John. "He has your example of what's normal, and I've caught him imitating your charismatic way of interacting with others. Especially – " Sherlock grimaced slightly, " – with women." John squeezed Sherlock's hands tighter, and the pained look on his face faded. His eyes returned to John's. "Then he has me to see that being different is okay, and that he can follow his dreams without worrying about what others think. And together we show him that you don't have to be the same or agree on everything in order to be happy and loved." He smiled, and John's breath caught. Even after all these years Sherlock's beauty threw him off-guard. "How can a boy with all that ever be less than ideal?"

It took John a moment to process all that Sherlock had said, but once he did he smiled. "Thank you, Sherlock." John closed his eyes and leaned forward, letting his forehead rest against Sherlock's. "I don't know why I was worrying so much."

"Because you're an idiot." Sherlock leaned forward and kissed John, who returned the gesture eagerly. Just then they both heard the downstairs door being opened. The two pulled apart and locked eyes.

"Hamish," they said together.

With a gentle squeeze, Sherlock let go of John's hands and went in search of his violin. John smiled, sighed, and headed to his chair, grabbing the paper from the table as he went. He could have just as easily stayed on the couch, but Hamish had a penchant for lying on it when he got home from school. Perhaps he imitated John's "charisma" as Sherlock put it, but John had noticed that Hamish had many physical aspects that he could only have gotten from Sherlock. A preference for lying on the couch when thinking or relaxing was one; another was his way of walking, very purposeful and poised.

"Hey, Dad!" Hamish cried as he entered the room, dumping his backpack on the floor and pulling off his coat. That followed the backpack, but when John saw he cocked an eyebrow and Hamish, meeting his eyes, quickly picked it back up and put it on a hook.

"Thank you, Hamish. How was school?"

Hamish laughed. "It was alright. We talked about relationships." He headed to the couch, just as John knew he would, and threw himself down, stretching out his legs.

"Relationships?" _Interesting coincidence,_ John thought. "What about them?"

Hamish shrugged, though the motion was mostly hidden by the couch. "I dunno. We mostly went around the room and talked about the people we have in our lives. Most people talked about their parents. Or their friends."

"What did you say?" John asked, curious. As most parents would be in the same situation – everyone wants to know what their child says about them when they aren't in the room.

Closing his eyes, Hamish replied, "Not much. I was one of the last to go, so I didn't have much time. I said that I have a dad and a father and I love them both. That was basically it."

"Nothing wrong with that." John smiled. "We both love you, too."

"Thanks," Hamish grinned, but it faded quickly. "Where is Father?"

John looked around and, not seeing Sherlock in the immediate vicinity, shrugged. "I'm not sure. He was just here. Listen."

"Listen? For what?"

"Shh." They both were quiet for a moment. Soon sounds of music could be heard from the direction of John and Sherlock's room. "There he is."

"Oh." They were quiet for a couple of more minutes, listening to Sherlock play. "Why doesn't he do that in here?"

John smiled. "I think he's subtly giving us time to ourselves."

Hamish was quiet as he processed that. "That's nice."

"It is, isn't it? I know he talks a lot, but sometimes I think he says more with his actions."

"That's interesting." Hamish seemed to ponder something for a moment. "A lot of the kids talked about what their mom and dad say to each other."

"How do you mean?" John looked over at Hamish. He was still lying down, but his eyes were open once more.

"They have these – how did they put it? – pet names, I think, for each other. And they say I love you a lot."

"That sounds very normal." John said, grinning as he flashed back to his earlier conversation with Sherlock. In his head he heard Sherlock's voice exclaim "boring!"

"Yeah. We're not so normal, are we?"

"Does that bother you?" At that, Hamish sat up and looked his dad in the eyes. John eyed him curiously, wondering just where this conversation was going.

"Not exactly. I mean… they just placed so much emphasis on words in class today."

All of a sudden, John felt incredibly justified in his earlier worry. Sherlock had been right in removing his fear, but the fact that it had been there in the first place was not just something his mind had conjured out of nothing.

"Words can be important. But so can actions. You know that." John could tell that something was bothering Hamish, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. Did he think that he and Sherlock didn't say the right things at the right time?

"I do." Hamish was silent for so long that John, after watching him think for a while (which, interestingly, reminded him of so many times with Sherlock) turned back to his paper and continued reading an article he had found earlier. He noticed Sherlock reenter the room and move quietly to a desk, seeming to look for something.

"Dad, do you love Father?" Hamish's question surprised John, and it took him just a moment to reply.

"I do. Very much so." Sherlock straightened slowly to John's answer, looking over to see where this conversation would lead.

"And does he love you?"

"He does." John folded the paper over and adjusted in his chair, giving Hamish his full attention. "What's this about?"

"Well, you really don't need to say it to make it real, do you? It's just…" Hamish shifted slightly, tilting his head. "I know the way he looks at you says more than enough."

John smiled, his eyes flitting to Sherlock before resting back on their son. "Actually, he does say it every once in a while."

"He does?" Hamish's eyes narrowed as he searched his memory. "I've never heard him." Sherlock picked at a cloth on the table, but John could tell he was listening intently.

John laughed slightly. "I'm sure you have. He says it a bit different than others." Glancing up, he saw Sherlock turn toward him in interest.

"What does he say?"

Shaking his head, John tossed his paper onto the table and started to stand. " 'You're an idiot.' "

Sherlock, in hearing John's response, looked away, unable to stop the smile that pulled on the corners of his lips.


End file.
